


Peripeteia

by 100demons



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was in Tesco, dithering over Jaffa cakes, when the phone call came.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peripeteia

He was in Tesco, dithering over Jaffa cakes, when the phone call came. They had a new blackcurrant flavor out and he was inspecting the ingredients list, idly wondering if Irene would like the strawberry flavored one better.  
  
“Sherlock.”  
  
Lestrade’s voice should have tipped him off, all tense and wound up like a spring. But he wasn’t paying attention, instead thinking of the tea that would be waiting for him back home. “What is it?” he asked absently and dropped the strawberry flavoured ones into the basket, settling in nicely with a jug of milk and a bottle of antacids.  
  
“M’s been, well, he’s back. Another body.”  
  
“Well, that’s odd. Timing’s all off, there shouldn’t be another one for a few weeks.” Sherlock picked up the basket on the floor and made his way to the check out girl, giving her cigarette-stained fingers and bruised wrists a passing glace. She had half an eye on the telly in the corner blaring Eastenders, probably holding her breath and wondering who had killed Archie Mitchell, when it was obvious that it was--  
  
“Sherlock,” Lestrade said again, sounding strangely urgent, his voice crackling over the phone. “Listen, this isn’t-- look-- it’s-- it’s Irene. Irene Adler.”  
  
Sherlock swallowed and tightened his grip on the handle. “Irene,” he echoed distantly as he stared at the girl’s smudged lipstick and chunky mascara, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, her eyes two mirrors reflecting Archie’s dead body.  
  
“Yes, Irene Adler. We haven’t found her body yet but in-- in your-- your flat--”  
  
The basket hit the floor with a startlingly loud thud and he looked down in surprise. He didn’t remember letting go, but there the basket was. On the floor. The checkout girl shot him a dirty look before turning back to the show.  
  
“Sherlock, Sherlock are you there?”  
  
“Yes,” he said distantly. “You’ve found the three scuff marks?”  
  
There’s an agonizingly long pause before Lestrade responded. “Yes,” he said in a low voice. “And the blood-- we’re working on getting DNA testing going but...”  
  
“The hair, in her hairbrush, it’s in the bedroom on top of the bureau. You can use that.” Sherlock closed his eyes.  
  
“Are you alright?” Lestrade asked. “Listen, you don’t have to come in for this one, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t be involved in this particular one. I’ll have to call you for a statement later, but it’s best if you don’t come in. Here.”  
  
“I moved in two weeks ago,” Sherlock said. “I haven’t even finished unpacking.”  
  
“...I’m sorry,” Lestrade sighed, rush of crackling static. “I’m so, so very sorry.”  
  
“She sent me out for cakes,” he said stupidly. “For tea. It was only an hour ago.” An hour ago, she had chased him out of the flat, laughing, pressing one last kiss against his throat. An hour ago.  
  
Now, she was dead.  
  
 _Dead._  
  
Sherlock dropped the phone and ran out the door.


End file.
